The Other End
by Quistis88
Summary: Written in 2002 for an English creative writing assignment. The alternate ending, the ultimate finale.


An Alternate Ending to William Golding's "Lord of the Flies"

By: Quistis88 (Connie Y.)

The hunters' threats rose above the roar of the fire. With the entire island in flames, Ralph had nowhere left to run. His strength deserted him, leaving him collapsed in a heap on the beach. Propping himself up on one elbow, he tried to drown out the rapid and deafening heartbeats that covered up the sound of his desperate gasps for air and rest. Nevertheless, the adrenaline continued to course through his body, insisting that he stand up and start running again.

He could choose; choose to join Jack and not end up dying, but Ralph's pride held him back from making that decision. The last thing he wanted to do was to give in. Everything he's gone through and seen with his own eyes . . . it was too much. His head spun from the horrid recollections and he wanted to die right then and there. Ralph wouldn't have minded if Leviathan suddenly appeared and swallowed him whole.

"There he is!" Jack's voice produced a visible shiver in Ralph, who immediately struggled to run again. His sloppy efforts due to lack of energy didn't get him far. It wasn't long before he fell face-first onto the ground once more, this time skinning his knees. He was lost. He had lost.

"You have nowhere to go, Ralph," Jack sneered. "My hunters have you surrounded. You might as well give up now." Shouts of approval sounded from all around Ralph, but Samneric stayed silent.

Ralph was enraged at the painted cluster of boys. From within that fury, he found the courage to protest. "You're just a big idiot, _Jack_." He spat out his name as if he were disgusted with it.

The Chief's face contorted with anger and pointed his spear directly in front of Ralph's nose. Furious, he shouted, "No! _You're_ the big idiot, Ralph! You and your rules an' . . . an' voting! But you got nuthin' now! Nuthin'! Your fatty friend and that weird kid are dead! _Dead_, do you hear me!?"

"It wasn't just my fault! You were there, too! You were there when Simon got killed and you were there when Piggy fell!" Ralph bellowed back with equal ferocity.

"So were you, but it don't matter now! Look at the island, Ralph, look at the island!" Jack spread his arms and gestured towards the growing fire. "Everything's gone. We have no food now, Ralph, and you know why? It's all because of you! If you didn't run and hide, we wouldn't have to smoke you out!"

"Don't blame me for _your_ stupid mistakes!"

Jack's palm came flying towards Ralph's face and made contact. "You're wrong! You shut up, you hear!? Shut up!" His face darkened not because of the airborne ashes but of the storm clouds that loomed overhead. The gray skies gave the boys a round of thunderous applause and wept.

All was silent as the boys held out their hands, as if to catch the rain. They watched the raindrops slip through their callused fingers like laundered velvet, not realizing the same rain quenched the fire and fed the sea. Smoke soon replaced fire and small puddles began to form around their bare feet. The face-paint became one with the heavy rain and drained from their bronzed faces. Surviving trees stood by a rock near the beach. Jack laughed oddly.

"Look at there, Ralph! Smoke! There's your smoke!" Jack screamed.

"What's _wrong_ with you, Jack!?" Ralph questioned as the strong gusts that toyed with the remains of his clothing became more and more powerful.

Jack ignored him and growled. "Join us, Ralph. It's the only way."

Wiping his long bangs away from his eyes, Ralph replied, "Just look at yourselves! Look what you've become! If you want me to be like that, then I'd rather _die_!"

The painted Chief allowed a sick cackle to escape from his mouth. "If that's what you want, Ralph, then I'd be more than happy to let you have it!" He pulled something from what little clothing he had left, something that gleamed from the lightning that lined the black horizon — Jack's knife.

Ralph, fearing the worst, backed up cautiously. Seeing the retreating steps, Jack felt more confident and snickered. "Look, everyone! Ralph's _scared_. This is what happens when you follow _rules_!" He had to strain his voice to be heard over the rumbling echoes of the thunder. "If that's what you want, Ralph," he repeated, "if that's what you want . . ." He turned and motioned for Roger to come closer. "It's just like killing a pig, Roger. Hunt."

Understanding what Jack was implying, Roger's lips twisted into a disturbing grin and two hands reached out to grasp the handle of the knife. Slowly, Roger crept closer to Ralph until he had him backed into a nearby rock. Roger raised the blade high into the air and prepared to stab the boy. Another flash of lightning burst forth from the fuming tempest and struck close to shore, brightening the sky.

Ralph knew that one day this would come. Ralph knew, and accepted it. He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the final strike. A blinding light flashed before Ralph's closed eyelids. When the final strike did not come, Ralph started to breathe again, smelling a stench of burning flesh. He dared himself to take a peek, and regretted doing so.

Roger was no longer there in front of him. All he saw was a crumbled black mound on the ground with a knife in its midst, lying on the mud underneath one of the trees. The blade shimmered with a mysterious light, as if energized.

Jack let out a screech of terror and anguish. Racing to where Roger once stood, he tried to lift the knife from the black mound, determined to finish what Roger had started. Unknowingly, he leaned against the tree and stayed under it longer than he should have. Bolts of judgement flared and one of them led Jack down the path Roger had gone on. Jack's body convulsed madly, in rhythm with the falling rain around them. His wide eyes stared into Ralph's momentarily, before he finally became deathly still.

Ralph withdrew from the scene, stumbling backwards. The sight was so horrifying, he could not tear his eyes away. He could hear the bawls of the littluns behind him while raindrops took the place of the tears he wouldn't let fall. The squall waged on, more cruelly than ever before. Suddenly, the littluns' hoarse wails multiplied in volume. But Ralph didn't turn around. He didn't see or hear the approaching typhoon that erupted from the waters like a beast from the ocean, enveloping the island and washing everyone out to sea. It drowned the island in a single wave that resonated for miles with an uncanny similarity to a symphony's grand finale.

As the hours passed by, the rainstorm died down and the ivory-colored remnants of a once-intact conch shell glistened in the sunlight as it washed ashore.


End file.
